Jump!
It was fun to do when you were three years old, in puddles, off curbs or, heaven forbid, off roofs where your mom said you’d “break your neck.” Van Halen told you to do it. The Pointer Sisters and Count Basie made it bounce, The Stones made it flash. And in the new book, “Daughter of Daring” by Mallory O’Meara, one woman made it pay.
When Helen Gibson was born in late summer of 1892, it was a time for little girls to act like proper, well-bred young ladies.
Fortunately for Helen (born Rose Wenger), her parents didn’t follow those rules. Helen was allowed to climb trees and play in the dirt near their Cleveland home which was, perhaps, a sign of things to come. Alas, by 1910, Cleveland held nothing for a girl like Helen so, after working briefly at a cigar factory, she struck out for a life of excitement.
She landed in Oklahoma, at a ranch that offered Wild West shows, where she learned trick riding and other fearless ways to delight customers eager for thrills.
Entertainment, says O’Meara, was one of the few ways a woman in the early 20th century could make a decent living while having some degree of independence, and that new kind of lifestyle was usually found in the West. In the sleepy town of Los Angeles, California, for example, a woman who wanted to seize adventure could very easily find a friend or two, an inexpensive film camera, and the thinnest of plots. She could make a moving picture — and she could be famous doing it.
Still, despite that, fame eluded Helen. After leaving Oklahoma for L.A., she made a good living, but it wasn’t enough for her. She wasn’t afraid of danger or hard work or risky stunts. None of that mattered; she just wanted the acknowledgment she felt she deserved.
All she needed was the right kind of movie … You can almost hear the tinkling of a slightly out-of-tune piano and the clickety- click of an old-time projector as you’re reading “Daughter of Daring.” It’s as if you’re sitting in a dark room, circa 1925; you can almost feel the hard chairs and you’ll be thrilled, but not necessarily by the action here. The thrills come with knowing what’s been hidden so long, and the truth of what once drove the movies we’ve loved.
Author Mallory O’Meara tells a secret, the revelation of which is way overdue and quite surprising: Women, as it turns out, were major movers in film a century ago, in more ways than one. For her part, Gibson was the first stuntwoman — O’Meara nailed down details and the tale is exceptionally told — but Gibson wasn’t an “only.”
The rest of the story — ofˆ story — is as addictive as buttered popcorn.
So grab a bucket of salted goodness. Find your favorite seat, and get ready for this real-life “Perils of Pauline”-like tale and the audacity within it. If you love a good movie, look for “Daughter of Daring” and jump on it.
— The Bookworm Sez
